


Feet

by squishyturtlefuckfics



Series: Kinktober 2019 - Squishyturtlefuckfics [5]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Bullying, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Foot Fetish, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, T-Cest, Turtlecest, Violence, tcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 16:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishyturtlefuckfics/pseuds/squishyturtlefuckfics
Summary: Mikey's a little shit, and Raphael's had enough.Day 5 of Kinktober 2019





	Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Day 5 contains foot fetish, mild abuse, non/dubious consent, and a hint of sadism/masochism.

Squirming. Struggling beneath him. Raphael shifts, adjusting his stance to maintain his balance. One foot resting firmly on the floor at ninety-degree angle, and the other...

Eyes gleaming, burning, Raphael pushes his weight downward, pressing his foot into his brother's cheek, scowling as Michelangelo struggles beneath him. “Why won’t you speak? Huh?”

Mikey's eyes snap up to his face, the intensity of his glare overshadowed by the crease on his brow. His hand comes up, batting at his foot, trying to shove his leg away, but Raphael merely presses harder, twisting all of his anger into the movement.

"You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" More force, pinning his brother's head to the ground. “How many times have I told you to stop fucking taking my stuff!” Raphael snorts, barely able to keep himself from shouting. He didn't want his brothers busting in here to stop him. To stop this.

Michelangelo deserved it.

The crumple of paper accompanies the swift movement of his hand. Raphael raises an old comic book, stained by soda and nacho sauce. Ruined beyond belief.

Michelangelo's eyes fall at the sight of it.

Heat surges through his stomach. The comic crumples into a ball as his knuckles turn white.

"I fucking _knew_ it!" He punctuates the sentence by driving Mikey's skull further into the floor, earning a cry of discomfort from the younger brother. A slew of further excuses and apologies.

White noise in his ears.

"I'll replace it!" Mikey squeaks as the comic bounces off the floor beside him, arms still flailing at his legs. "Get-- Get the hell offa me, dude! I'm sorry, okay?"

Static. More force.

"I'll get you a new one!"

"Like hell you will!"

More force. More anger. Raphael wrinkles his snout, lungs burning. How the fuck could Mikey do this to him again? Was it a game? Some kinda funny 'joke'? A bet between the rest of them?

That was it. That had to be it.

He lifts his foot for just a moment, just enough to give Mikey room to move, then slams it right back down onto his face. The sole of his foot rests squarely on his brother's beak, and Raphael can feel it squish as he shifts it about.

Breath heavy. Head ringing. Stomach tight.

Raphael snorts, nostrils flaring.

"Lick it," he says sternly.

There's a pause. An awful pause where Michelangelo's eyes widen, then narrow. His snout wrinkles under his foot.

"Fuck off!" Comes the muffled reply.

Raphael shoves his head into the ground. His eyes burn. Face torn into a snarling, furious scowl.

"Fucking _lick_ it!"

Silence. Raphael waits expectantly.

Michelangelo's lips move beneath his foot.

"Get the hell off m--"

His foot moves in a flash. Raphael tenses, then grinds down onto Mikey's face, pressing hard into his snout until both his nostrils and his mouth are sealed up. There's a jolt beneath him. Mikey writhing. Squirming. Punching at his ankles. Muffled screams.

Raphael waits, and waits.

And sneers when the fire in his brother's eyes fade.

He pulls back then, clearing Mikey's airways enough for him to sputter and cough, for him to shudder and glare at him. Daggers in his eyes. Blunt daggers. More like butter knives.

He pushes down once again, gaze fixed on his brother's face.

"I said,” he begins, voice dropping to a husky whisper. Dangerous. Threatening. “_Lick_."

Finally, Michelangelo complies. It's slow. Hesitant. Raphael watches his face screw up once he dabs his tongue against his sole, and sneers as he begins to shift his foot around on his beak. Just by inches. Just enough that Mikey can feel it.

Just enough that Mikey has to do all the work.

And he watches with glee as his brother's loins tent and bulge, as a blip of pink pokes through his sensitive slit. Raphael's hand falls, fingers dancing over his own burgeoning need as he eyes the chair in the corner of the room, groaning gently at the heat and texture of Mikey’s tongue running over his skin. Dipping between his toes. As he shudders and whines beneath him.

_They had all night to play._


End file.
